


In the Absence of the Light

by faith2727



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, cue the ugly cry, season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 00:03:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3956911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faith2727/pseuds/faith2727
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-6x22 one-shot. A series of glimpses into Damon’s thoughts as he tries to figure out how to live in a world without Elena Gilbert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Absence of the Light

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.
> 
> Author's note: The inspiration for this one-shot was provided by Incubus's "I Miss You." Oh, and that incredibly sad finale. *tears up*
> 
> Thanks to the wonderfully awesome [daroh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daroh) for being my beta!!! :)
> 
> Warning: Contains spoilers for 6x22.

Day 3

_I see your picture_  
_I smell your skin on the empty pillow next to mine_

Another sleepless night. Can’t remember the last time I slept. When I close my eyes, I see her smile. Hear her laugh and the steady rhythm of her heartbeat; her human one’s not that different from the one she had as a vampire. (I could make both of them race just the same.) Picture the lift of her brow when I’d give her “that look.”

_“You’re doing it again, Damon.”_

_“Doing what?”_

_“Looking at me like you want to devour me.”_

_“Maybe I do.”_

Clothes scattered on the bedroom floor. Silk sheets tangled and pillows tossed aside. The taste of her sweet, salty skin on my tongue. Her hands fisted in my hair, nails raking my back. Don’t stop. Not ever. Need more. Always need more.

I sat on the bed without thinking. The scent of her surrounded me and I couldn’t breathe. Almost drowned in it. Almost snapped.

I prowled the woods for hours to clear my head. Finally came back when I heard Stefan calling my name. He was worried. I saw it in his eyes. He said nothing, just walked with me the rest of the way to the house.

*****

Day 5

Caroline’s cleaning. She mops floors that aren’t dirty. Dusts shelves that aren’t dusty. Washes windows until they’re so clear that birds fly into them. Polishes silverware until the gleam makes my eyes water.

She alphabetized the library by authors’ last names, then by titles, then she organized them by color just for fun. A side effect of her enhanced control freak-ness, I guess. She could use the damn books as lawn ornaments for all I care.

She packed up all of Elena’s things from their dorm room and brought them back here to store until . . . they’re needed again. Boxes of clothes and knickknacks. A picture of Elena and me showed up on my dresser, and her journal was left on the bed. The picture can stay. I put the journal in a drawer. Can’t read it now. Don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.

I noticed a pile of clothes on the floor—the suit I’d worn to the wedding. When I picked them up to wash them, throw them away, burn them, I don’t know, a piece of hay landed on the carpet.

Fuck.

*****

Day 10

_You have only been gone ten days_  
_But already I’m wasting away_

Sat with Ric most of the day and into the night. Doesn’t say much anymore, just drinks until he passes out. I’ve started watering down his bourbon so he doesn’t get alcohol poisoning. He doesn’t complain. Just mumbles things I can’t make out but that sound like “Jo” and “twins” sometimes. Pretty sure he said “Duke” yesterday. Is he thinking of teaching again? Good luck with that. The man can’t even dress himself right now.

Stefan asked me if I’d fed lately. Said I looked like hell. (Huh, I wonder why.) I told him I hadn’t. Loss of appetite.

He hassled me until I went to the cooler and grabbed a blood bag, passing by my mother’s empty cell on the way there. (Another fail in a long line of epic ones.) Watched me as I tore off the corner and swallowed a mouthful. It must have satisfied him because he left after that. Didn’t see me toss the rest of it in the trash.

Maybe it’ll actually taste good to me again someday.

*****

Day 37

Bon-Bon found me in the cemetery, propped up against Horatio Fell’s gravestone and toasting to the memory of the woman I love, who was only a few feet away, ensconced in a mausoleum with a “Do Not Enter” spell surrounding it. After telling me to get off my drunk ass and live my life ‘cause that’s what Elena wanted me to do (or something like that, I dunno, my ears were ringing), she dragged me back to the house even though I was ranting and raving the entire way and may have threatened to dismember Ms. Cuddles if she didn’t leave me the fuck alone.

We walked in on Stefan and Caroline sitting side by side and speaking quietly in front of the fireplace. They moved apart when we entered, looking guilty and awkward all at once as if any signs of happiness were strictly forbidden. Who knows where they got that idea from.

*****

Day 92

Enzo stopped by. Haven’t seen much of him since . . . well, since I came back from 1994, wearing a plaid shirt with a Nirvana song stuck in my head. Apparently, he’s been entertaining Lily. Whatever. As long as it keeps her out of my hair, I don’t care if the two of them are playing house.

Sometimes I hear Stefan talking to Caroline about how he wishes we could all be a family again—him, Mother, and me. I just laugh to myself and guzzle more whiskey. We’d make the Mikaelsons look functional.

Bonnie cast a spell around the property so we’ll know when any supernatural being trespasses on it. She’s worried about the heretics showing up when we least expect them. We’re all taking turns being the lookout. Makes sleeping nearly impossible, as if it wasn’t difficult enough before now. At least it’s quiet.

Too quiet.

*****

Day 185

_I know I’ll see you again_  
_Whether far or soon_

Mommy Dearest and her band of fucking witchpires have turned Mystic Falls into a scene from one of those movies where disaster strikes and only the cockroaches survive. There aren’t enough animals in the world to blame for the attacks. So many people have been killed that anyone with half a brain has packed up their shit and gotten the hell out of Dodge. Those who’ve stayed are either incredibly stupid or they have a death wish. Probably both.

Businesses are closed and windows are boarded up, even the goddamn Grill. Probably because Donovan isn’t available to be the busboy, bartender, host, chief cook and bottle washer, etc. He’s _Sheriff_ Donovan now. (We’re doomed.) He keeps insisting on sticking around to fight the good fight and protect the other idiots who haven’t left, so Blondie, Stefan, and me (if I draw the short straw) watch his back to make sure he lives to sheriff another day. Ric and I have been hitting the bars in Grove Hill when we’re not busy replenishing the weapons cache and trying not to get ourselves killed. The heretics are tricky bastards. There might only be six of them, but they’re vicious and unpredictable. One minute you’re walking down a quiet street, and the next, you’re face to face with a creature that can give you an aneurysm and tear your throat out at the same time. Barely a night goes by that I don’t come home in shredded, bloodstained clothing. Alaric carries a flask of my blood on him at all times, but we’ve agreed that he’ll only use it for extreme emergencies, seeing as he doesn’t want to revamp himself.

Flyers for missing persons cover the storefronts in the town square like wallpaper. They’re not recent though. In fact, the people who first posted them are probably dead now, too.

Had a close call with Witchy the other day. One of Lily’s goons had his fangs buried in her throat, sucking the life and the magic out of her. Cue my internal struggle. Every time something like this happens, a tiny, selfish voice pipes up. _Just let her die_ , it says. _Then you can have Elena back. She’ll never know you just sat there and watched it happen. Once she sees what’s become of Mystic Falls, she’ll understand._

I ignore the voice. I have to. Bonnie’s pulled my ass out of the fire more than once. I owe it to her to protect her. Besides, Elena can’t wake up yet. She’d be shattered by the devastation. This place is a war zone. It no longer resembles her home—the town where she grew up, met her best friends, fell in love. Now it’s a nightmare instigated by my own mother.

Last night, I actually fell asleep without the aid of alcohol or vervain (it’s fucked up, I know, but it works). I’m not a dreamer, or at least I never used to be one . . .

Elena was in my arms again, her head resting on my chest as we swayed together to music only we could hear. It was different from the dance we’d shared in her mind. That had been about saying goodbye, if only for a time. This was gentle, unhurried. Eyes closed. Peaceful.

It gave me the strength to wait. To fight. To live.

Someday, Elena will open her eyes again, and I’ll be there to tell her how much I love her and have missed her.

All I have to do is hold on until the threats have disappeared, the heretics have been destroyed, and Lily has been . . . dealt with. Until Mystic Falls is once again a place fit to call home, and Bonnie has lived her full, happy life.

The darkness won’t last forever.


End file.
